Something For Eternity
by raditus
Summary: Based on the tv show: Jeeves and Wooster. This is a horror story thats detailed what happens when Jeeves is abused by a now nonHuman Bertie Wooster and his cult of lackies! this story makes frequent mention of Stargate and is a sort of mini SpinOff!
1. Fear, Abuse, and Desperation

SOMETHING FOR ETERNITY

Chapter 1: Fear, Abuse, and Desperation

Outside of London, England

192?

The man ran blindly out into the night. He knew, just knew, that he had to get away before the other came back into the home! He caught a lucky break, as an emergency call came to the other one. He appeared to be asleep, and knew tricks to fool the others mind/ the other one had some vile trick of telling him where he was, as well as other who made him angry! He saw what happened to the enemies, oh how he saw! Then he planned like mad to get away from it all! The night was cold when he'd run from the mansion. But he didn't care, oh how he didn't care! Ages ago, he'd nicked some paper from his employer's study. He was intent on writing a letter to his love, but never got the chance. Then after the incident happened, he never got the chance to. So he hid the piece of paper, completely forgetting about it. It wasn't until he'd run into _his _room, breaking down crying from the beating he endured that he found the piece of paper wedged between his only two allowed, books.

"You better be here when I get back!" His employer bellowed making the group of women he was with laugh. The beat up man traced his hands over the paper, sighing unhappily. "Or you'll get worse than a beating; I'll _dream!" _the beat up man's breath hitched in fear at his words and at his employer's trademark grin. There was the commotion of people leaving the Mansion while holding a hushed conversation.

The man sat down at his small, poorly-made desk. His proper desk has been tossed around crazily when his employer found out he was planning on not being his employee anymore! The man remembered, as he hastily scrawled the note, the desk easily being lifted by the other and slammed around. The desk having too much abuse, busted apart in sloppy shreds of wood and paint. But, for the man, he discovered that _his_ abuse had only just begun!

The paper was stained with his tears of remembering of threats and actual physical touch too horrid for the note, as well as the blood from the busted nose he'd received. He quickly folded it up with bloodstained fingers and crammed it into the pocket of his tattered, filthy looking pants. After also stealing an empty whiskey bottle, (His employer now seemed never to get drunk, no matter how many copious amount of the stuff he guzzled.) he ran from the Mansion's back door, taking care not to be seen by other who could have been present in the place. He made a beeline for the dark woods, using only the moon's soft light as a guide. As his expensive looking uniform was now it tatters and him being barefoot; the cold cut to his bones. As he ran, night birds sounded off soundly, giving the woods and eerie feel. Turning his head, the forlorn man looked towards over where the city would be. He could feel his employer's nasty influence hanging over the town, squeezing the life and well being of the city; all for him and the benefit of the lady friends; lady friends whose hungers were very most unnatural!

He got into the deep wood, careful not to loose his footing for his plans would be spoiled by injury. He came to a deep creek that everyone knew led into open water far away. Taking the items, he stowed the note away in a bottle. He said a prayer to God then threw the bottle away from him. The bottle spun in the air as it arced, the moonlight catching the glass and reflecting off of it. The man ran away before seeing if the currents carried the bottle away. The bottle was picked up by a current. The nature of currents was that sometimes it carried you far, sometimes it didn't. The bottle only got halfway before it got jammed under some underwater rocks and never came back up anywhere to be seen again.


	2. Fishing for Trouble

Chapter 2: Fishing for Trouble

Outside of London England

2006

Jesse Martin laughed, lounging on a giant rock, as he watched his girlfriend, Rachel Myers try her hand at fishing. Rachel gave him a mock-hurt look.

"It would happen faster if you helped!" She said, smiling. Jesse deftly sprang from the rock onto the fall leaves. A sudden wind kicked at the two lovers, making them shiver. Jesse hugged Rachel until the wind subsided.

'Well, what's the problem?" he asked in his clipped, British accent. Rachel stuck her hand in the water, feeling for the line. Jesse saw it taunt of the fishing pole and how it ran right to the bottom, like it was stuck on something.

"It seems to be caught on something," Rachel grunted, trying to pull on the line frantically. Jesse grabbed her to stop her from doing that.

"Don't," he began, jumping into the water. "You'll cut yourself up pretty bad." He was in the water up to his knees and crouched, ramming his hands deep in the water.

"You found anything yet?" Rachel asked, worried.

"Not yet-"he stopped and made a sound of accomplishment. The treasure he held in his hand was not one either of them expected. It was the shape of a bottle, but it was covered in dark mud that reeked of Sulfur. He quickly washed what caked on mud he could off. "It's been down there so long; mud piled on top of it," Jesse said as he sloshed upon the land, Rachel following close behind.

"What is that?" Rachel asked, ducking her head down to get a better look. It was some obviously antique bottle. Some scratches ran down the length of the glass.

Jesse looked closely and saw something folded and yellow. Carefully, he opened the bottle. There was a slight odor of staleness from the bottle. Rachel put her hand up to her mouth.

"It smells like nasty gym socks!" She squealed. Jesse looked up and around at their surrounding real quickly.

"Be careful, if we're caught, we'll be jailed!"

"Sorry," Rachel began, putting her hands in her pockets, "I don't want to the cops to know we've trespassed. What is that thing, anyway?" Jesse lifted the paper out gently and unfolded it. Part in the middle snapped and crumbled away.

"It's some kind of note, written back in the nineteen twenties." Jess spoke, reading the note, "Please help, employer being funny in head, abusive towards me, obviously plotting something!" Jesse had a funny, sinking feeling as he continued; "Anyone who reads this, need safe harbors, fears for life!" he looked up and added, "Oh my god Rach!" he turned quickly and took out his weird cell-phone. He quickly dialed a phone number. "Momm, I think we have _big_ trouble over here."

"What do you mean?" a sharp female voice sounded out.

'That vacation that I decided to take with Rachel, across realities to 2006 of _that special reality_; well I found out something that we _have_ to help with."

"What is it this time?'

"I am coming back with Rachel. I think it's best if we _show_ you." Jesse got off the phone and saw Rachel glaring at him. "Now what did I do?"

"I think how its swell how you turn our vacation times into missions for the team!" Rachel crossed her arms and pursed her lips. Jess grabbed her by her shoulders, pleading.

"Honey, I'm sorry! I know how much you wanted to do this!"

"Fine, whatever, Jess." She muttered. "Let's just go back home, ok?" nodding, they both want on the big rock and fell asleep.


	3. Discovery

Chapter 3: Discovery

Eric Momm awaited the arrival of Rachel and Jesse. From the sound of it, they had much to report. She frowned worriedly, twisting her hair. It must have been big news to get Jesse to break the vacation! Jesse and Rachel walked up from one of the back bedrooms.

"Where's the object?" Momm asked, worried.

"Right here," Rachel replied, placing the antique paper on Momm's desk. Momm picked it up and took a look at it.

"Where did you find it?" Momm asked, looking at Jesse.

"Rachel was fishing and need some help. Turns out the line got snagged on a bottle." He added, "The letter was in the bottle."

"Anyone see you take it?"

Rachel replied, "No Ma'am. We were on the back premises of a Mansion. Local legend was that something horrible happened there and it's been abandoned since the 20s."

"Do you think that this horrible thing could have been the dude's murder?" Jesse asked.

Momm nodded, "At this point, it's better not to take any chances. Martin, Myers, assemble a meeting. We _have_ got to rescue this person!"

Sometime later, the usual team was assembled. Chris Landsman: Fire-Support was over in her usual corner, looking tough as she actually was, her spiky head bobbing in time to the tunes of Mudvayne in her Ipod. Jesse Martin: Team Leader was sitting in front of the room in his chair, looking concerned and ready to take notes about the mission. Rachel Myers: Negotiations was taking with Momm in hurried whispering, and Mark Levitz: Engineer was sitting next to Jesse, reading a comic book. Momm hurried out of the room and everyone wandered where she was going.

"DO THE REASEARCH; YOU ARE NOT GOING UNLESS YOU DO THE RESEARCH, MIRANDA!" Momm's outraged voice bellowed. A screen door banged loudly. Two sets of footsteps hurried down a hardwood floor down a hall.

"NO, I DONT WANT TO WEAR OLD CLOTHES AND I WANT TO LISTEN TO MUDVANE THERE!" came the angry reply. The two people continued bickering as they made their way to an empty door-frame. They walked right into the room.

"If you don't; you will not join the team over there." The person said amid a tone of finality.

Miranda, a twenty-something medium overweight woman whirled around with a shocked look, blonde, ropy hair flying. The girl spluttered, shocked. "But you said - I should have been with them on the last - you monster!"

"I told you to get the research done," The person said, pointing at the girl's CD-player. "And heavy metal such as 'Mudvane' was not even heard of- let alone a CD-player!"

The girl scowled, knowing she'd been had this time. "And besides, the mission is easy cakes. All they have to do is locate the person and get them to a safe haven. After that, all they have to do is just have to camp out and wait to head towards the Extraction point."

Miranda walked over to her study desk, with Momm still looking. She could feel everyone glare. A few people whispered words like 'Stupid noobs' and 'cry more noobs."

Miranda took one more chance to appease Momm, "If I manage to cover _some _base over research, can I just go with them when they are camping out?" Momm crossed her arms and stroked her chin, pondering.

She then nodded and replied, "You will be tested the day after next."

Miranda smiled and nodded, saying nothing past the lump of nervousness in her throat. Just two whole days to get enough knowledge to pass; how was she ever going to do that?

"Well, ok then," Jesse began, 'What do we do about this problem?"

Momm replied, "That note is on yellowed, aged paper. And it says about his _employer_. The Jeeves from the show is a Valet who works for Bertie Wooster."

Chris Landsman remarked, smirking, "there was a really old movie or something first of all-" She fiddled with her pony tail once before adding, "And I am not going there – not enough asses to kick."

"Shut up, Chris!" Mark Levitz barked out, "You were content enough with the _Muppets Mission_ and you agreed with Sara when she said you can't kick ass!"

'Don't speak of the dead," Chris flared up the way Mark said about Sara so casually after what he let happen on the last mission, "Jerk!" She barked, throwing a pillow. The pillow hit Mark in the stomach and he bent over, seeing stars and gasping. Chris jumped up and moved to another seat in a huff.

Jesse sat forward and said, concentrating on the mission, "So what version then? I thought, as Chris said, there was only the movie." Momm handed out two pictures of two men, talking and eating. One of the men was looking away from the table, at some other people. He wore, as by the modern standards, outdated clothing. But for that time, it was clothes of the rich class. The man sitting next to him wore Butler-type clothing.

"I printed these out from the internet. I did not want to send out any scouts, as there were too many people gathered there."

"Why does the rich dude look like the House M.D. dude?" Chris asked flippantly, sucking on a lollipop, only taking it from her mouth to ask this question. Then from the silence, it dawned on her, "Oh no, I'm not doing this mission! That dude is too cute-"

"You either do this, or you're barred from the team completely!" Jesse barked. Chris had a look that said _bite me, _but she got up from her chair and started going around the business of stowing stuff away for the mission. "So, what can we expect?"

"The way it was when you were there has nothing to matter: as this note was written in the past, to the past you must go." Pacing the room, Momm added, "All of you have to teleport to get there."

"I don't think I'm ever going to get used to the I-have-to-hurl feeling afterwards." Rachel replied, and Mark nodded in agreement.

"Which is why I brought stuff that maybe able to help with the re-assemblage nausea." Miranda said, dragging out a big box. She opened it and inside it were bulk orders of motion sickness medicine. "It should help a bit with nausea." Miranda sat back down as the others took the medicine and pocketed it.

"I think we should dig in once we get there, set up a temp-base." Mark suggested. 'Then we secure the hostage and escort him along until we get a communiqué from The Others for ETA."

"We don't even know where he was." Miranda spoke up. 'And besides, it might not only be Bertie; don't want to run into a squad of-"

Rachel snickered, "Yah Miranda, there's nothing worse than being set upon by a team of terror-causing rich people brandishing their deco-cane saying, 'we're going to sue!'"

Momm snapped, "Guys, cut it out! Miranda, look into that night and see what is waiting for us." Miranda nodded and left the room for her own. Momm turned back towards the others. "After she reports, we'll be able better to plan our moves."

Miranda, when she was along in her small room, turned to her Altar she made.

The Altar was not, by any Occult practitioner, grand. It was merely the top of a short, white, unused dresser drawer. It was unused, as clothes were never placed within it ever again. However, Miranda seen that items of magical natures were placed in it for quick reaching if she needed something. She never, and she made sure dearly, that anything blasphemous to the only lord she followed, was never placed in her room. She followed this strictly, every other day, doing recounts of magical papers she printed out from the computer, throwing out anything abusive to her Lord.

She removed a blue candles and placed it on the altar. She always had on her Altar. A mirror was in the middle. "Lord Enki," She began, "please show me the site, I want to see what is going on over there now."

She focused, using on the soft light from the one candle, on her reflection. She started at the mirror a long time on her face, until the image started getting grey and fuzzy. She focused on her third eye chakra. Her face in the mirror went away, place by a small, see-through image of some trees and a creek-like body of water. She saw images of animals, quickly flashing by of rummaging around a creek or river. Miranda saw a battered form of a man quickly throwing an object and the river and then haul out of the area. She was just about to come out of the trance, when something dreadful happened.

A face popped up in the mirror; it was superimposed on hers. It looked like a woman, but devoid of hair on her head. Her pallor was grey, as in death. Her face was gaunt, the angular shape of her check bones visible. Her eyes were so deep set; it almost looked like empty sockets in the dim candle light.

Miranda made a soft squeal of fright and landed backwards on her rump. She stared at the mirror from her floor, breathing hard. Thankfully, no one heard the commotion. They'd toss out her Altar and other things then, for sure! She got up and blew her candle out, thinking. She knew Father Enki would _never_ do anything to frighten his followers; in fact, he protected his followers to the end! There was only one meaning to the frightful vision; that the rest of the trip was going to lead to deep trouble!

Miranda woke the next morning. She had a quick breakfast and set out for the, library, intent on doing some research for the time-period. Momm watched Miranda leave the house and commented to the others, "Research is one thing, but hand-on is another. When you guys go, and if she gets to go with you, make sure she doesn't compromise the thing."

Chris started going the gear and pick out what they definitely needed. She only took out some small daggers for the team to use, and machinegun and modern handguns were strictly no-take. Earlier, her and Momm made a compromise; no one was to take out their Ipods or whatever and show the 'natives' these. And of course, she had to pick gear for those who had to go with 'Jeeves' to his safe harbor while the others stayed behind and held up that end, making sure no one followed them. Miranda had noted, before she fell asleep that it was night-time when the man threw the bottle, with just a hint of moonlight. It might just have been from his abuse, but he was shivering, so to also pack spare clothes.

"I think it's a drag that we have to go back in time," Mark grumbled after putting his breakfast dishes in the sink.

"We're like the only people who can go to other realities, let alone be able to meet people 'from television shows'" Jesse replied. "Besides, dream teleportation wasn't the only way we've done this. Ages ago, before I stepped in, legend has it The Organization used to use a Dream-gate."

"It's true," Chris began, "Sara and I were members when it happened. But ages ago, we used to call this unit 'Imaginary Marines' because back then, we had none of this living together. We lived with our families and stuff, only reporting when there was something to be done."

"Well what was the Dream-gate," mark asked, getting impatient. The others glared at him.

'Well the Organization used to be run by a General George Hammond," Chris replied. "He was an actual General of something called Stargate Command. He made a theory one could travel as we do now by a group-formed dream of what he called a Star-gate. We just ended up calling it a Dream-gate."

"So then as it goes," Jesse added, hearing the part a thousand times, "he met Momm, and became best friends. He vanished during a mission and it fell to Momm to take over."

Momm stuck her head in the kitchen door. 'Are you guys quite finished with the packing?" Chris waved her hand back towards the stuff she'd packed for the team.

"Yes Ma'am, all packed and ready to go." They met in the house's den, waiting for what to do next; it always seemed to vary as to what missions they were doing.

"Because of the urgency, there will be no excursions into London itself." Momm replied. There were few hushed whispered. "I'm serious; this man's life is in danger! When you get over there, listen to Mr. Martin." After a few minutes, she added, "That will be all."

The team made sure all their equipment was finished being set out.


End file.
